No Secret Anymore
by MyLittleYellowBird
Summary: In s6e8, Shelagh and Patrick share a sweet moment when they sing to each other. How did "Secret Love" become so special to them?


In s6e8, Shelagh and Patrick sing "Secret Love," which got me thinking. How and when did this become a special song?

* * *

Patrick looked up from the files before him and sighed. He'd have to stay up for hours if he was ever going to catch up with the diabetes clinic notes, and he simply did not have the concentration he needed. For years this quiet time in the evening had been his most productive, and efficient use of it kept paperwork from overwhelming him.

In the last few weeks, however, he hadn't made much headway in the bureaucracy of his practice. Tim needed more attention since coming home from the hospital, and time for exercises and practicing with his calipers kept them occupied. If it weren't for Shelagh, Patrick was sure they'd fall behind in that area, as well.

The quiet hum of her voice passed over the hatch from the kitchen as she set about making their last cup of tea for the night. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and he leaned back in his chair. If he were completely honest with himself, Shelagh was the biggest distraction of all. What power did a sheaf of paper have compared to the feel of her cuddled next to him on the sofa? Or the sound of her sigh in his ear as he nuzzled her neck? He couldn't possibly be expected to slave over ink and paper so soon after their honeymoon.

He clicked the cover back on his pen and stretched. He'd get to the diabetes clinic in due time. Resting his forearms on the hatch, he watched his wife spoon sugar into his tea cup, just the way he liked it. Her eyes glanced up at him, and a faint pink color stole across her cheeks. He supposed he wasn't hiding his thoughts well.

"What's that song you're humming?" he asked.

A secret thought crossed her face, and the pink deepened to rose. Shelagh bent to fuss with the tea tray. "Just a silly thing I heard on the radio this morning. I-I'm not certain what it's called."

He shifted his body away from the wall and approached her at the kitchen table. "It sounds pretty, whatever it is. I've always thought you have a lovely voice." He stroked his finger over the curve of her ear and then reached for her hand. "Sing it for me?"

"Pish, Patrick, don't be silly." She pulled at her hand, but he only tightened his grip and pulled her close.

"I'm not being silly. I want to dance with you. We haven't danced together since our wedding."

In her effort to conquer her embarrassment, Shelagh's voice became prissy. "We both have too much to do, Patrick. We'll have some tea and get to those insulin charts." She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back.

He laughed softly. Despite her words, the flush continued to travel down the length of her throat. Shelagh was not in as much control as she was pretending. He placed his palm to hers, flesh to flesh, and entwined their fingers. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as he gave a light kiss to her fingers, then he pressed their hands to his heart. Her eyes flashed up at him, startled by the intensity that came over her so quickly, and she hid her face in the lee of his shoulder.

His other hand snaked around her waist and he murmured,

"I don't want any tea."

* * *

Over the course of the next week, the little tune ran through Patrick's head, but he could not place it. He'd hum a few bars and stop, his mind on Shelagh's blushing cheeks. On the few occasions that Shelagh caught him humming the tune, she'd bustle away in search of a task.

"Dad, you've got to stop humming. It's the same four bars over and over. It's really _quite_ irritating," Timothy scolded on the drive to school.

"Sorry, son," Patrick responded, his hands gesturing in defeat. "It's stuck in my head, no matter what I do. I don't even know its name."

"Ask one of the nurses, they're sure to know."

Shelagh's embarrassment was a bit of a puzzle. Despite her previous life of celibacy, his wife was no prude. In the private darkness of their room, she welcomed the new intimacies of marriage. She was still a bit shy about more public displays, but with each week grew more secure in her new role as a wife. Still, there was something intriguing about her response to that song, and Patrick had a feeling that she wasn't ready to share with others. He'd have to discover the name of the song another way.

The green car pulled up before the school gates. "You'll be late if you don't hurry, Tim. I promise I won't keep humming. I've got an idea."

The record shop door bell tinkled as Patrick made his way into the bright room. He couldn't recall how many years had passed since he'd purchased a record. Marianne had been the real music lover, and he had been content to listen to whatever she put on the record player. He didn't listen to much music in the car, either. Sometimes it seemed driving was the only quiet time he could snatch during the day.

Mr. Graham came out from behind his counter. "Doctor Turner! I never thought to see you in me shop. I 'ope you're not here to bring me some bad news, eh?"

"No, Mr. Graham, no news. Possibly because you haven't been to see me for a physical in a few years?" Patrick teased.

"Ah, well, you know how it is, Doc, busy, busy! What with this Elvis Presley bloke I can't keep the records on them shelves! You should see this place of an afternoon- full o' teenagers it is! I just turn down me hearing aid, though, and all's well. So what can I do for you today?"

Patrick cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak and then cleared his throat again. Taking a deep breath, he forced the words out. "I've come to find the name of a song. It's been tickling in the back of my head all week and I thought that perhaps if I heard the song, it'd leave me be."

"Well, you've come to the right place then, haven't you? The wife says I know every song there is, just you ask her. So, er… Where did you hear this song, then? The radio? The pub? Though what with you being newly married and all, I don't doubt you've not had time for the pubs of late, " he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"My wife was humming it earlier this week. She said she'd heard it somewhere but couldn't place it." Patrick's fingers drummed on the counter's edge.

"Well, I never was one to turn down a challenge. You'll have to hum a bit for me."

If Patrick was nervous to bring up the subject, the idea of humming out in the middle of a Poplar shoppe, when anyone could walk in, was daunting. Yet, he _had_ to know the song Shelagh was humming if he would solve the secret of her blushes.

"It's a bit like this:

 _Dum dah dum dee dum dee dum_

 _Dah dum dee dah dee dum dee dum…_ "

 _Heavens, please let that have been enough of the song,_ Patrick thought. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could withstand. The image of Shelagh's pink cheeks appeared before his eyes and strengthened his resolve.

Mr. Graham leaned his elbow on the counter and rubbed his chin in concentration. For a long moment, he hummed the tune to himself, working out its origin. He glanced up suddenly. "Can you hum it one more time, Doctor? I have an idea, but-it can't be…"

With a sigh, Patrick rushed through the tune one more time. Really, this was the silliest thing he'd done in a very long time.

Patrick watched the other man stare at him for another moment, and then a deep laugh rolled up from the shopkeeper's belly. For long moments he struggled to stop, but the chuckles grew into guffaws, and finally slid into wheezing roar. His hands flew about his face as he strained to get control of himself until finally, the old man started to regain his breath. Still chortling, he held his hand up asking for a moment and walked between the aisles of records. He stopped in front of one section, thumbed through the record sleeves and pulled one out. A quick nod of his head and walked back behind the counter.

Mystified, Patrick watched as the man slipped the album into a paper bag and folded over the edges. He shook his head to gather himself and said, "Here you go, Doctor Turner. A belated wedding gift, as it were. You bring this home to the missus and you enjoy it. Song number four."

Outside in the car, Patrick slipped his purchase from the paper sack. His eyebrows scrunched over his nose in consternation as he flipped the album jacket from front to back.

At that moment, he was more than grateful he had waited to open the bag. He could feel his face flood with color and he began to at last understand his wife's embarrassment. The song was appropriate, certainly. A slow grin crossed his face as the implications become apparent. He'd have to trade on-call duty with Greenwood.

Tonight, he was dancing with his wife.

* * *

"It's a good thing for us Dr. Greenwood needed to switch his on-call with you tonight, Patrick," Shelagh announced as she carried Timothy's calipers into the sitting room. "There's still so many files to be gone through before we open the new maternity home, and Timothy spilt some milk on his calipers today. I'm afraid they're going to need a polishing."

Patrick took the metal and leather straps from her hands and placed them on the table. "I'll get to them in the morning. I have something I want to show you." He handed her the paper sack. "Go ahead, open it."

Shelagh looked up at him, curious. "Patrick, there's no need-" Her breath caught in her lungs as the record slid out. The telltale flush flooded her pale skin and her shoulders tensed.

"My love-Shelagh, look at me."

Shelagh shook her head and placed the record on the table face down.

Patrick considered how far he should push his point. In the early weeks of their engagement, Shelagh had struggled to face the eyes of the community, and he didn't want any old awkwardness to resurface. His instinct told him this was different, however, that there was something new about her blushes of late that spoke more of awareness than shame.

"Shelagh, it's just a song." He cupped her face in his hands. "We've nothing to be ashamed of, my love, I hope you know that."

Her eyes darted to his in surprise. "I'm not ashamed, Patrick. Never that." Keeping her eyes downcast, Shelagh struggled to find words.

Perhaps he should change tacks. "Shelagh? Will you dance with me?"

Her tiny nod was enough for him. Taking her hand, he drew her to the record player. She stood passively by as he gently lowered the needle to the spinning disc, his touch light. The silence of anticipation enveloped them, and Patrick turned to her. Not shy, but somehow tentative, Shelagh moved into his arms.

He could feel the restraint in her. No, restraint wasn't the right word, yet he knew she was holding something back. He could push for more and she would give herself to him, she would allow him to lead her to their bedroom and would give herself to him. Why was he hesitating, he wondered? He could feel the desire hum between them. Yet he waited.

Her soft voice stole his heart. "I love you so, Patrick."

His nose brushed lazy curves against her forehead. He forced himself to wait another moment. This was about her confusion, not his; it was not his place to lead her to her own conclusion. He would trust that Shelagh loved him and would find her own answer.

"There've been so many changes these last six months-my whole life is different." Her thumb caressed the palm he held to his heart. "It's more than leaving the Order to marry you. I always had to be the stoic one, growing up- I think it's part of what drew me to the religious life in the first place. I was able to channel my emotions to God, and they became so much less troublesome. But now-"

"Now?" he breathed.

She moved closer and rested her head against his chest. He held her close, not really dancing but simply swaying to the music. "I'm not afraid to feel anymore."

"That's good, then?"

She lifted her face to his and smiled. "That's _lovely_." In a slow movement, she slid her hands around his shoulders and threaded her fingers through his hair. With a gentle tug, she pulled his face to hers. Happy to comply, Patrick met her lips in a soft kiss. The swayed together, the song winding through an instrumental section. Shelagh broke the pressure of her mouth under his to glide her mouth across his lined cheek and whispered, "This song makes me want to be in your arms." She returned her mouth to his, her lips eager to show him her pleasure. The tip of her tongue flicked against his lips, coaxing them to part. She tugged his lower lip between hers and sucked gently.

A deep groan rose up from Patrick's chest as he let her take the lead. Her boldness aroused him and he delighted in the feel of her body pressed tightly to his. How far would she take this? His hands twitched as e tried to hold himself back. His patience was beginning to fade.

It seemed Shelagh was more in control than he. She pulled away, her hands against his chest to put some air between them. Her cheeks were flushed with desire, but her eyes were clear, and he began to understand. Shelagh loved him, she loved being a wife in every way. There had been so many changes for her, more than he realized. As a nun, she had harnessed her womanhood in service to others and found the solidarity she sought in prayer and community. By her own choice, Shelagh had turned that fierce devotion towards her husband and stepson and made her own happiness.

She rested her palm against his cheek. "I'm learning to let myself show what I feel. I can watch you-or Timothy-and not concern myself with what others will think. But-oh, I was silly, Patrick. The song is lovely, truly it is, and I could never be ashamed of loving you."

His eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Then why the pink cheeks?"

"Promise not to tease?"

He chuckled. "I can try. You know how I love watching you blush."

Shelagh rolled her eyes, trying to appear stern, then gave up. "The song makes me forget everything else but you, and then I catch myself being romantic." She glanced up and met his eyes. "See? I told you my little secret was silly."

The song faded into the soft hiss of the needle spinning in the record's final groove. Patrick's hands pulled her close as she tilted her lips to his. "Never silly, my love...and no secret anymore."


End file.
